


The Canopy.

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ents., Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 08:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Nimloth Witnesses a turning point in the song of the Onodrim.





	The Canopy.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smaug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smaug/gifts).

image by Smaug

<img src='[https://hennethgalad.dreamwidth.org/file/7605.jpg' alt='angry ent' title='&quotGet off my lawn !&quot](https://hennethgalad.dreamwidth.org/file/7605.jpg'%20alt='angry%20ent'%20title='&quotGet%20off%20my%20lawn%20!&quot)' />

image by Smaug http://fav.me/ddf9cvq

  
  


Galadriel smiled as she polished the silver basin; word had come from Nimloth, most learned in the lore of Onodrim, and the thought of what the mirror would show brought joy to her heart. For the Ents were holding a wedding, and no elf had ever been privileged to witness such an event. Nimloth would be there, watching silently from a high talan, but the Onodrim were wary of strangers, especially those with axes, and no other Eldar had yet gained their confidence.  
Galadriel inspected the basin, her reflection was almost as clear as in the water, she set it carefully on the polished surface of the tree stump and filled it from the fountain. Singing the words that Melian had taught her, she breathed carefully onto the mirror, and closed her eyes for a moment, steering her thought, and the mirror, to the chestnut groves south of Sarn Athrad, where swift Ascar flowed into Gelion.

The entmaidens dance was as long as their speech, sometimes slow and sinuous, then swift and sharp they darted to and fro, trailing blossom in their wake, scattering petals on the great circle of older Ents, and pausing before Fervain and Finnel to raise their arms and sing.  
The ents swayed from side to side, at times in one wave, then in ripples that grew into waves of different harmonies, until at last the entmaidens gathered in a smaller, inner ring, and the great Song of Renewal filled the glade. The soft high voices of the entmaidens floated above the deep chorus of ents, and the richness of the voices of the entwives wound through all like the honeysuckle through the trees.

  
At last there was silence. The entmaidens returned to their families, and the ents stepped back, widening the circle. When all was still, Fervain led Finnel to the centre, then turned to face her, gazed lovingly into her green-gold eyes, and began to sing her name.  
The day passed, the clouds turned the colours of berries, and still Fervain sang, and the forest about them was still, but for the distant rush of the Ascar.  
And into the midst of the clearing, shocking them into silence, a horde of orcs came running, weapons black with blood, black as their foul hearts.  
  
The orcs stopped, and some threw themselves down, gasping for breath, while others gathered at the feet of Fervain and began to light a fire. Fervain and Finnel turned to Fangorn, who looked about the great ring at his family and friends, all of whom were looking at him. To his embarrassment, one of the orcs was making water on his own feet. Fangorn looked down at the orc with disgust and shouted 'Burárum !' and brought his fist down on the head of the orc, which snapped and crunched, shedding its fluids all over his legs.  
There was a moment of stunned silence, the orcs looked at their broken companion, then at each other; it was clear that they knew nothing of the Onodrim. Fangorn narrowed his eyes, and looked at Fervain.  
With a speed that surprised the younger ents, the ring closed in, the orcs were crushed, and the ents were once more alone. Finnel looked in horror at the glade; where the mossy grass had been scattered with petals, now the blood and bones of orcs lay, befouling the fair lawn. Fervain sang softly and she turned to him and sang with him, and for a moment it was as if nothing had happened. But Fangorn raised his arms. 'Hmm. Come, my friends, let us bury this filth, deep below the reach of the thirstiest roots, that they may never trouble our songs again !'  
  
The pit was dug a score of ent-strides from the glade, and the remains carried swiftly and buried deep. Before moonrise the lawn was cleared, and the blood and filth washed away with water from Ascar. They did not resume the ceremony, but gathered in groups, swaying and singing, unhappy and disturbed. Many had never seen an orc before, none had ever slain one; it was a new thing for them, and it would be long ere such horror found expression as part of their song. But Fangorn beckoned his chief counsellors, and they stood in a small ring and sang through the night, asking questions to which they had no answers.   
At last, as the first tentative birds began to greet the brightening sky, Fangorn remembered the elf maiden, high in the tree, and sang out her name.  
Nimloth, who had been forced to drink rather a lot of miruvor to still the horror in her heart, climbed slowly down and sang a greeting to the Onodrim, her eyes round with shock. Several fists were raised, but Fangorn sang reassurance, and the ents turned back to each other, all save the three, the oldest ents, Fangorn, Fladrif and Finglas. These towered over Nimloth, sparking and bristling with fury, and Fangorn, his kindly eyes narrow with rage, spoke angrily. 'Burárum, hoom, here in our very moot ! What is happening, Nimloth of the elves ? What has brought these orcs here ?'  
Nimloth held up her hands 'My lord Fangorn ! I have sung you the song of our people, as much as I know. These are the creatures of our Enemy, I am glad that they are slain, it may be that thereby you have saved the lives of some of my own people, for which I thank you. But why the Enemy is here, now, I cannot say. Have you watchers on your borders ? Do you know nothing of the great fire in the north ?'  
The three ents looked at each other; the great fire was only now, seasons later, being brought into the songs, but all had seen the endless black cloud, had felt the cold, and the ash, and the unclean rain. Still, the ash had brought new life and vigour to the wild woods, once the rains had blended it with the earth, and to the ents it had been a blessing.  
'Hmm, borders, we do not have borders, we walk as we will, and none stand against us.' said Fladrif. But Finglas looked at him from the side of his eyes, and then at Nimloth 'You sang of a flying beast, a creature of your Enemy, which breathes' his voice fell to a whisper 'which breathes flame. Is that not so ? Hm ?'  
'Hoom, come now, that was not truly what caused the great fire ! Surely, if your foe had such a creature under his command, he would have burned you all by now !'  
Fladrif's breath hissed, but he said nothing. Nimloth frowned 'My lords, I cannot say why the Enemy hesitates to use his weapon. In truth, the forests and fields are defenceless against the beast, for we have no weapon sharp enough to pierce its hide, for it is scaled, armoured like the hardest stone, and we cannot harm it. And since it flies, I cannot see how you yourselves, if you can forgive my saying so, could fight it either. My people dwell in caves, but we must find our food in field and forest, and it may be that this beast will slay us all, swiftly with fire, or slowly with starvation, unless we take the course that some of my kin have taken, and cross these mountains.' She gestured up to the distant heights of the Ered Luin, but the ents did not move their eyes from hers.  
'What have you, hoom, you elves, what have you done to anger him so ? Why is he your Enemy ?'  
'Our Enemy ? He has rebelled against Eru Ilúvatar himself ! He is the Enemy of all that lives, of the very mountains and rivers, and he hates the sea more than all. He is the Enemy of Arda, and none that live, not the wisest among us, nor the Ainur in the West, can say why.'  
'Hmm, but why now ? What has brought forth this beast at this time, and why, burárum, are there orcs on our lawn ?'  
Nimloth shook her head, forgetting in her dismay that the gesture meant nothing to the ents 'Oh Fangorn, I do not know ! There was peace for so long, I think that we forgot how fragile it was. But I have heard nothing of any deed among my people to rouse the Enemy to sudden action.'  
Finglas murmured in Old Entish, Nimloth strained to hear, but the sounds were too deep for even her ears to perceive. Then he sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the ferocity of their gleam startled Nimloth.  
'Hmm, flying beasts of fire, well, hmm, we can do nothing against such a foe. But these burárum, these stinking-spoored, empty-hearted, croak-voiced orcs, these we can, hmm, destroy.'  
'Hoom ! Do not be hasty ! Destroy ! What would you do, Finglas, march across the plain to the black stone hill hall ?'  
Fladrif hummed briefly, a sound that Nimloth felt in her teeth, rather than heard 'I would follow ! The fouling of the lake has slain many of my people, poisoned from the roots, a dreadful fate ! Those who could have climbed, away up the slopes, but there is waste where once we sang together. Alas for my people !'  
Fangorn frowned 'Alas for all the lost. But should we strike this foe, he will unleash his creature, and we shall burn. It may be that you will choose a swift end, for the chance to strike a blow, as the king of these elves did, but we must think of our people here, especially those who cannot follow us. When we are slain, they will be at the mercy of all, even the filthy orcs. And what of the time to come ? When we are slain, what then of our duty ? What then of our song and our work ?  
No, we must take thought, together. For see, here we are, the moot is gathered as the first drops of rain fall of the storm to come. We must consider our path.'  
Finglas snorted 'Ha ! Will you wait until your last twig burns ? "Do not be hasty" ' he said, imitating Fangorn so well that Nimloth would have been fooled had she not been watching closely.  
But Fladrif sighed 'Ah, ah, Fangorn is wise, my friend, do not mock him, but learn from his patience. But I would hear the counsel of this... this elf. What do your people do ? Will they attack this Enemy ?'  
  
Nimloth shook her head again, then spoke 'My lords, I do not know. My people are divided in ways that I can scarcely understand myself. They came from across the sea, and they were changed. They shine now, lit from within, and their songs are strange to us who dwelt ever beneath the stars. But they are fell, and mighty, in deed and song, and they may yet defeat even the flying beast, which they call Glaurung.  
I cannot say. But they can never defeat the Enemy, and it may be that their coming has increased his wrath. But whether they had come or no, the Enemy would still seek our destruction. My lady Melian, who is of the Maiar,' Nimloth paused as the three ents looked at each other, but she could not read their faces. They turned their thoughtful green-brown eyes to her, listening intently. She swallowed nervously 'My lady Melian says that the Enemy is so mighty that she can do little to harm him, for all her power, and she merely baffles those of his creatures who seek to enter our lands. But there is none so mighty as my lady, none to lead an army, even could such an army do aught but infuriate him, and increase his attacks.  
I am sorry, my lords, but you must cross the mountains, or you must stand, and trust to hope.'  
Finglas spoke in the deep voice once more, and Nimloth drew in a long breath. Talking to one calm ent was daunting, but facing three angry ents, still damp from washing the blood of slain orcs from their mighty fists, had shaken her badly. The warmth of the miruvor was fading, she took another sip, and Fangorn looked kindly at her. 'My poor little friend ! You are far from home, you are alone among angry people, you have witnessed our bloodiest wrath. Hoom ! Take your leave, little elf, take some rest. We must sing together, and the song will not soon end.'  
'I am grateful for your kindness, dear Fangorn, and I thank you. But though you do not guard borders as we do, yet still I would say that you should set a watch, upon the banks of Ascar and Gelion, at least, lest orcs take you unawares as they did here.'  
Fladrif raised his eyebrows 'Hm. Guards ? We here are all guards !'  
Fangorn sighed 'Come now, Fladrif, do you plant your seeds all in one hole, or do you scatter them widely ? We here are all guards, but we guards are all here ! The counsel of Nimloth is wise !  
Hoom ! Hom ! ' he called, and all the ents turned to him. He sent a score, north and west, to stand watch over the rivers. Nimloth felt herself breathe more freely, and realised how deeply the Girdle of Melian had seeped into her spirit, for here beyond its protection she felt as helpless as a new-hatched bird, and the invasion of the orcs had shocked her beyond speech. She sat on the soft turf at the edge of the glade, and watched as the ents slowly reordered their circle, and with a great 'Hoom !' from Fangorn, the entmoot began.  


Galadriel started as a hand was lain upon her shoulder; Celeborn was there. She smiled and he stroked the hair back from her face 'My dear, you have watched through the night, was the marriage very beautiful ?'  
She looked at him in astonishment, how could he not know ? But he had always struggled to read thought, which perhaps accounted for their happiness together. Swiftly she told him of the horror she had witnessed, and his pale face whitened with alarm 'By the stars, the thought of our beloved forests turning against us...' he looked anxiously up at the trees around them, then back to Galadriel 'What shall we do ?'  
'I must rest, while the Onodrim hold council. Then I shall watch again. Nimloth is there still, frightened and alone, I shall send Haldir and his brothers, though they come too late to Sarn Athrad, yet still, I would have them find her and hear her thoughts.  
What shall we do ? What will the Onodrim do ?'  
They gazed at each other in bewilderment and wild wonder. The serene harmony of the woods they loved had become altered; the shell was cracked and the wide world had shattered their tranquility.  
  
Nimloth awoke gradually, feeling the ill effects of the miruvor. She passed her hand over her eyes and shook herself fully awake, considering another sip of miruvor to counter the poison. But beside her an enting stood, still as a tree, bearing in its smooth hands a bowl. When she looked up into the deep-green eyes, the enting slowly seemed to emerge from the dim shade, and began to shine, reminding her somewhat of the way the Noldor shone. But the lives of the Onodrim remained largely mysterious to her, even after so long, and she could not guess what such brightness signified. The enting spoke, its voice pitched high as a young elf, and Nimloth found herself smiling as she rose to her feet. 'Nimloth, ah, fair-tressed elf-maiden ! I greet you as the day dawns afresh ! Will you drink with us this fine morning ? Here is the water of Ascar, blessed by Fangorn himself, long-living far-seeing wise-hearted father of trees... Drink now, and heal swiftly, for you have slept long. The moot has sung these two nights, and there is much debate !'  
'Stars shine upon this, the hour of our meeting ! I am known to you, but what is your name ?' she held up her hand 'Forgive me, I am barely awake, I forget myself. What may I call you ?'  
The enting smiled and held forth the bowl 'Drink now, fair elf, you may call me Orofarnë, for I dwell high on the mountain among my kin. Yet our home is in the north, overlooking the great black plain, that once was green and sweet. Our hearts are with you, elf-maiden, your Enemy is our Enemy, and we need no further insult to rouse our fury.'  
Nimloth smiled, but her mouth was dry, she took the great bowl and drank eagerly. The cold water was bliss to her throat, she drank like an ent, draining the bowl in one great draught, and only then savouring the taste, which had something of smoke, and the merest hint of mushrooms. She resolved to ask again about the brewing of these drinks, but doubted that the ents would be any more forthcoming. They had agreed at once to sing her the song, but she, to her horror, had fallen asleep on the second day, and knew that it would take several elves to fully grasp the song. And even then, would they have the skill, or the power to achieve such subtle tastes ?  
But the drink brought her fully awake, coursing through her veins like a fresh wind,  
she could feel her back stretching and her limbs straightening, like a watered flower springing back to life. 'I am grateful to you, Orofarnë, may I ask you what the moot debates ?'  
The enting looked at her thoughtfully, she wondered how old it was, it was clearly still growing, being a mere fathom high, little taller than herself, but it had the air of calm intelligence of a much older ent. She laughed at herself, how could she know ? They were impossible to read, they were elusive in speech, and inscrutable in thought. She knew little more than she had when first she had dared to join their singing, centuries before.  
'Nimloth ! The moot debates your counsel, whether to stand guard, perhaps to perish, or to cross the mountains and flee, leaving so many, ah, so very many, behind to perish unguarded. Yet what would it avail them for us to die with them ? Naught !  
Yet I fear we shall have the worst of both choices... I fear that we shall divide, ah, never before have our people divided as yours have done. Here, we are one, we are the... we are the ents ! Ah, alas for my people, alas for us all, foes of the Enemy. But I would ask you, what is it that this Enemy seeks ? What does he love ? What does he cherish ?'  
Nimloth carefully handed the heavy bowl back to the enting, and watched it take it as though made of thinnest wood rather than carved from stone. She tried not to think of the gore she had seen, all those orcs, reduced in an instant from vigorous life to carrion. She pushed her fear to the back of her mind. 'I cannot say what he wills, save that it seems he would be Eru Ilúvatar, not Morgoth Bauglir. As to what he loves, I think he loves nothing, not even himself. For if he loved himself, he must be grateful to his creator, whereas he seems to hate Eru most of all. But tell me of the moot. You believe that some of the ents will cross the mountains while others remain here to face the Enemy ?'  
'Ah, yes, that, I think, is already clear. But we have never been parted in such a way, it is a new thing, and there are many who would rather have us die together than be parted.   
Hoo ! But I will cross the mountains, and many others, especially those from the north, will do likewise. But there are also many who will follow Fangorn, whether he leave or stand, for they, we, love him as we love the rivers, the mountains and the sky. But if he will pit himself against an Enemy that' the enting's voice became hushed and reverent 'that the deep-thinking clear-singing health-giving... that the lady Melian finds to be beyond her, then I would say that he has strayed from the path of wisdom. But I do not envy him his choice, for how can he abandon our folk ? Yet how can he lead those who would depart if he is slain here ?' The enting paused and looked down, then up again 'My lady, Fair Nimloth, I cannot endure the thought of burning ! I have seen it once, when the storm struck a friend. He burned slowly, his limbs were broken, and though we rushed to fetch water, the fire had taken hold, deep in his flesh, and his screams will mar my song forever. I cannot stay !   
Hoom ! No ! We must leave this Enemy to destroy himself in his own folly.'  
  
On the sixth day, Nimloth felt a change in the air. The moot was settling into a repeating rhythm, which she had noticed before as agreement was reached. But the change was greater than could be accounted for in the song, the air was heavy, though the sky was clear, and the wind in the high branches did not reach the glade of ents. She decided to walk a little, to clear her thoughts, but could not find the path from Sarn Athrad. New trees seemed to have sprung up in the night. Bewildered, she walked around the vast clearing, yet between every tree stood two more, and the sunlit aisles of Ossiriand had vanished into a dark shade, thicker than any forest she had yet seen. While she sought a path, any path, the enting Orofarnë came to her again.  
'Ah, elf-maiden ! Straw-haired sky-eyed path-finder Nimloth ! Do not stray from this place ! Huorns have come !'  
'Huorns ? I have heard this in your song, but I did not know the meaning. Are they ents ?'  
'Hm.' said Orofarnë 'Taurelilómëa-tumbalemorna Tumbaletaurëa Lómeanor... They were once trees, but the song has awoken them. Now, though they do not hm, sing with us, yet they hear and understand a little of the song. You must be wary of them, for though we know you to be a friend, they do not. But the moot has called them forth, they will follow Fangorn, wheresoever he leads. Ah Ossiriand ! I shall miss the sweet song of the waters, and the sweet air of the forests.'  
'Oh Orofarnë, I grieve for your people, and for all the hurt caused by the Enemy. But there are forests across the mountains, some of my kin are there, and there are lakes, and rivers, it is very fair, they say !'  
Orofarnë smiled sadly, but said nothing. Nimloth looked up at the smooth face, so different to the gnarled Fangorn, and the pain in the enting's eyes wrung her heart 'What is it, Orofarnë ? Some other trouble saddens you.'  
'It is the marriage of Fervain and Finnel. It is ended before it began. For he will remain, and Finnel considers him fey, as one who casts himself from a cliff. Hmmm, as do I. It may be that the ents will prevail, and Fervain stride in triumph to meet Finnel, but even then, she will have naught from him, and now their hearts are broken, the moot is full of their anguish, and my, hm, my young heart is pained with the grief.'  
'What ? Oh no ! That is the worst news, how deep the wounds of the Enemy, how much worse those we cannot see, yet still, we suffer them. Oh Orofarnë ! Is there nothing we can say ? No of course not, forgive me, I spoke with haste, and Fangorn would reproach me himself. Doubtless the moot has sung of this.'  
'Ah, hm, yes. Alas, it was another cause of division. Never has it come to this, never since the eldest awoke ! But there are tidings ! Three of your people have come, the Huorns will not allow them to pass lest they are creatures of the Enemy. But they resemble you, in dress and appearance, though, hm, their features are less delicate than yours. Their leader names himself "Haldir". Does this name mean aught to you, hm ?'  
Nimloth felt her spirit open like a flower, she had longed for the company of her own kind since the dreadful slaughter of the orcs, and Haldir had ridden with her many times, guarding her from all that threatened.  
'Oh yes ! He is a dear friend, I would very much like to see him, and his companions, likely his brothers, if there are three who resemble me. Shall I go to them, or will you allow them to enter here ?'  
'My lady Nimloth ! We do not hold you against your will ! You may leave when you please, or rest here; they have horses, and will reach you swiftly.'  
'Then, if it please you, I shall remain, to witness your parting, that our songs and yours may meet in places, as the branches in the canopy.'  
Orofarnë smiled in delight, then took on a serious expression, and stood tall, and took a deep breath. With both long-fingered hands around the mouth, Orofarnë let out an astonishingly loud, deep call 'Hoom ! Hom !'  
Nimloth pressed her hands to her ears, but the ent was silent, only the steady rumble of the moot could be heard, at first. Gradually a deeper sound emerged, setting the fern leaves trembling, and the very earth rumbling beneath her. On the north side of the glade, a narrow path appeared, a lightless hall, along which pale shadowy figures rode towards them. Nimloth looked up gratefully at Orofarnë, and saw tremendous pride in the shining eyes. The enting looked down with a smile 'That was the first time I have been permitted to call the Huorns ! I am, hm, almost certain that I sang the true note ! And see ! Ah ! They have heard my call, and, what is more, they have done as I asked ! ' the voice of the enting tailed away 'But my pride is hasty, filling me as the sulight fills the winter tree. But the leaves are not mine, they are made of the light, which came from my mighty forebears, and from those you call the Ainur, and in truth, they must be, ah, at the last, mere thoughts, in the mind of Eru Ilúvatar.  
Hm. I must consider this. But here, hm, here are your people.'  
  
  
The ents took the dwarf road, and crossed the Ered Luin. Galadriel watched constantly, until Celeborn dragged her away from the mirror, and made her eat, and rest. But still she was drawn back, to witness the joy of the ents on seeing the vast green bowl of Eriador stretched out in the sunlight before their feet.  
But ever her gaze turned back to Sarn Athrad, where Fervain and his army of Ents and Huorns defended their home and their people from the hordes of orcs unleashed from Thangorodrim, destroying all in their path.  
The ents who had remained held Ossiriand, protecting the Ascar and Gelion from the axes and fires of the enemy. And though the orcs poured across the rivers, until the waters were dammed with their corpses, and they ran across the slain as on some hellish bridge, still the Huorns crushed them as they came, and hurled the broken bodies into the faces of their foes. The arrows of fire that poured like fell rain from the dark sky struck the massed ranks of the Huorns, but with plentiful water from the rivers, most were saved.  
Most, but not all. Fervain strayed too far from the river, encouraging his tired troops, and when the fire arrows struck, he was weary and deep among the Huorns. They were distressed by his anguish, and they failed to dampen the flames, and the unhappy Fervain burned.  
  
Galadriel wept; the marriage ceremony had been so beautiful, and this was the ending. And amidst the unending horror of the ruin of Beleriand, the fall of the entwood, though it seemed remote from the concerns of the Eldar, disturbed the foundations of her spirit. The valour of Fervain and those who had stood with him wrung her heart. She thought of Fingon the Valiant, and of the death of Fingolfin. The Onodrim, who had seemed so very strange to the Eldar, were perhaps more like them than had been thought. She resolved to heed more closely the words of Nimloth, and to seek out the ents herself. She had given them little more thought than the dolphins of Alqualondë, inhabitants of another world, a world beyond her reach. But it was not so, they drew breath from the same air, elf, dolphin and ents alike, and they marched together through the halls of time, and most of all, they confronted the same dread foe.  
Then, as sometimes happened, the song of Melian came to her, a verse she had heard often, but never fathomed. And at last the meaning became clear to her, that the ents and the elves were not as different as the elves and the dolphins, but as alike as dolphins and whales. Moreover, the dolphins were creatures of breath and song, as warm and alive as the elves, and they danced and sang in the starlit waters as joyfully as the elves beside them. The great love of Melian for all the creatures of Yavanna flooded through her, returning her in thought to the exalting Light of the Trees. The memory of their darkening wounded her afresh, she buried her face in her hands and choked with grief. Celeborn found himself unable to comfort her, and sought Gildor Inglorion, who had been with her in Valinor. And Gildor took her hands, and spoke softly of her father and mother, and sang to her, a song from her childhood, mourning the fall of petals and the passing of time.  
But Galadriel found her heart hard and clear, like crystal, like adamant itself, and she knew that she could not bear to see the fall of a single leaf, for the song of the ents had blended its harmonies with the song of the elves, with the Music itself, and she loved the greenwood as never before.


End file.
